Gentle
by I-Sort-of-Mean-It
Summary: "Promise us you'll take care of Sasuke…" Mikoto urged as the katana pressed through her chest. "I will…" the former Uchiha muttered with a slow withdrawal of the long blade from his parents' bodies. "Take care of Sasuke…" "Sasuke…"


"_You really are gentle…"_

Itachi Uchiha awoke in a cold sweat that morning, the thin sheet of his cheap hotel bed clinging to him like a second skin. He could feel the beads on his forehead, like little icicles dotting his blood-stained flesh. Blood stains…

The scent of iron hung in the air, forming a bittersweet stench with the faux-flowery burn of incense left by the maids. But the boy (he was no longer a boy) could barely smell them; too many tears had left his senses numb, and what felt like a lifetime of sin and regret had marred even the most obvious of experiences. The raven haired child (he was no longer a child) awkwardly stumbled out of bed, groping his way into the broken down bathroom. The light flickered and crackled weakly as if it could give out at any moment. He had hoped desperately that it might do just that; that it might just leave him to be swallowed up by the darkness.

But it did not give. Light had never been a friend of his and in this moment it certainly felt no different. In this moment it felt like harsh burning sunlight on his pale skin. It felt like just last week, when he was carrying his most precious younger sibling around on his back. It felt like some distant childhood he never knew; like the nostalgia one feels when reflecting on an experience they never had. It felt far too precious and far too undeserved for him, especially when all he wanted to do was curl up in a black pit and cease to exist. Onyx eyes gazed into the spotted reflection, taking careful note of the bloody stains marring his face and uniform. The spots on his forehead from when he sliced through his aunt and uncle; the ones that used to spoil him with sweets when his parents weren't looking. Long thin trails down his cheeks, screaming as loudly against his pale skin as his cousins had against the cold night; Cousins he used to live with, used to run and train and play with.

And then there were his hands, coated in every ounce of blood spilled from his parents' bodies. His parents… His hard-to-please but secretly caring father and his eternally sweet and ever-patient mother… They existed now only as stains on his hands, as some sort of terrifying mark no amount of water could ever wash away. He examined each speck on his bloody hands carefully, listening intently as they whispered to him. _"Itachi! Dinner is ready, Itachi" _his mother called over the hum of a tea kettle one spring night. _"I'm so proud of you, son. You've become a great shinobi"_ his father congratulated with a gentle pat on the shoulder as was his custom. It was little things such as this that the young shinobi missed most, these painful little moments that didn't become grand until there was no one left to make more moments with. Tears began to trickle down his worn visage. In a pained frenzy the boy cranked on the sink's hot water valve and splashed it, searing hot, onto his face.

The warmth of the water echoed from his face to his chest almost teasingly, as if to say _you'll never feel real warmth again._ The stains melded with the water, creating a stream of Uchiha blood and scolding heat that dripped from his chin to the cracked and stained sink.  
_"You really are gentle_…" His father's voice whispered over the dull roar and steam. With a desperate howl of pain the boy (he really was still a boy) sank to the floor, curling into a ball of bloody flesh and tears as he screamed out apologies to dead ears. Their faces flashed before his bleeding optics in rapid succession: first smiling, and then shocked as he sunk kunai and shuriken and sword into their backs, each one of them asking for mercy, praying that their most beloved kinsman had not turned against them. But he had no other choices…

And that's when he realized he had no other choice.

Nimble fingers traced their way down to his pack, gently caressing the last kunai within it. With a swift motion he brought the blade out and to his forearm. _"You really are gentle" _his father's voice murmured softly in his ear. The words resonated like the tender cooing of a parent trying to comfort their child as he guided cold steel down his arm, testing its sharpness against sallow skin. _"You really are gentle…."_

With a slow press the last Uchiha guided the knife into his forearm, dragging it down in a measured pace. Their voices began to fade as he drew the blade further down, one by one becoming lost in the quite roar and steam of the pouring faucet and pouring blood. The raven haired child (he really was still a child) dropped the knife, splattering blood across the cracked linoleum as he curled further into himself, tears and blood and water mixing into a pool of despair as dark as his onyx eyes. The lights overhead began to fade with the voices of his former kinsmen, their features becoming only distorted images now as he traced through them. Aunts. Uncles. Cousins. Mother. Father…

"_Promise us you'll take care of Sasuke…" Mikoto urged as the katana pressed through her chest.  
"I will…" the former Uchiha muttered with a slow withdrawal of the long blade from his parents' bodies.  
"Take care of Sasuke…"  
"Sasuke…"  
"Sasuke…"_

Gentle, childlike laughter streamed through the cold night air. The elder Uchiha lazily gazed around, looking for the source as he muttered "Sasuke…"  
_"Take care of Sasuke…"_

"_Nii-sama! Nii-sama!" _The young boy called to his older brother, gently shaking him from his haze. An innocent smile tugged at the child's thin little lips as he yanked on Itachi's clothes in a poor attempt to pull him up. _"Nii-sama!" _He met the young boy's bright eyes with a lifeless, heavy gaze. _"Not now, Sasuke…"_ The elder muttered weakly as the boy placed a gentle kiss on his forehead.  
_"Take care of Sasuke_…"

Itachi's eyes shot open. "Oh god… oh god…"  
"_Nii-sama!"  
_"Oh god…"  
_"Take care of Sasuke…"_

"Oh god…" Almost instinctively, the boy (he really couldn't be called a boy anymore) placed his hand over the incision, adding pressure to the flowing wound. With a swift motion he tore cloth from his sleeves and pants, wrapping it tight around the long laceration. "Oh god, Sasuke!" He called, voice cracking under the pressure. Itachi sprung from his pool on the bathroom floor and stumbled into the main room. He grabbed his cloak from the bed and rushed to open the window, each movement proving to be more labored that it should be. With a loud pop the window opened, exposing the young Uchiha to the frigid night air. Launching himself from the opening, he landed ungracefully on his back into the shrubs surrounding the dingy hotel. Though it was a risky choice to sneak into the place, the abysmal eyed teen was suddenly very grateful of his decision to remain so close to the city and to the compound. Itachi faltered into the dense covering of forest and night as he made his way back to the great Uchiha compound, incisions dripping a bloody trail behind him.

The great fortress was just as silent as it had been in the earlier hours of the night, before he slaughtered them like sheep in the den of a wolf. A full bright moon hung limply in the sky, bathing the bloody scene in ethereal blue light as Itachi stumbled around the ghostly compound, searching frantically. "Sasuke? Otouto? Sasuke!" He called, each word coming out more stressed than the last. A wave of terror washed over his cold form as he spotted the young child (he could still be called a child) lying still on the street. He ran faster than he'd ever run towards the boy, praying desperately for the life of his most precious brother. "Sasuke! Sasuke!" he screamed, shaking his doll-like sibling.  
"Itachi…" The boy (but he too was no longer a boy) whispered, still deep under the effects of the elder's cruel illusions. An unfathomable wave of relief passed over Itachi as he heard his brother's muttering, his soft breathing. "Itachi…"  
"Yes Sasuke, I'm here." He whispered, scooping the boy into his arms. The elder trembled dangerously as he rose, the added weight of the young one seemingly too much for his bloody arms. With slow faltering steps Itachi ambled all the way from the center of the compound to the city gates, his breaths requiring more effort with each movement. Sasuke shuddered and winced in his arms, tears forming in his eyes as he was forced to replay the nightmarish scene once more. "I'm so sorry… I'm so, so sorry…" The elder whispered, tears rolling down his sharp features and landing gently on the little one's pristine face…

What was normally a few minute walk felt like a lifetime with Sasuke in his bloody arms; but the light of Konoha's hospital beaming in the darkness brought some sense of relief to the world weary man (he really was a man now, he had no choice but to be). The raven haired elder's steps, already shaky, were becoming more precarious as he continued; if he had not been caring this precious child, he most certainly would have collapsed by now.

"I'm so sorry, Sasuke…" he whispered, voice fading among the light cool breeze. The boy roused momentarily in his arms, a childish smile pulling at his thin lips.  
"It's ok nii-sama, I still love you" he mumbled, exhaling lowly. It took everything within Itachi not to turn back and take the boy with him, to wipe his slowly-forming fabricated memories and simply start over. He could do it- he could erase all memory of the clan, of their violent demise at his hands. He could spare the boy of all the pain and suffering he had caused; of all the pain and suffering he would be forced to endure at the sharp kunai-like talons of a twisted shinobi world.

But this had to be done. He had to let the boy suffer, had to let the one he loved more than anything hate him with everything. He had to let this child grow strong in his hatred, so that one day he could find peace in his elder's broken pieces. And in doing so he would become a hero. He would make the Uchiha name a proud, honorable one again. This little, once so innocent, little boy was now the clan's only hope for a clean slate. This small, doll like child carried on his back both the tragedies of their lineage and the promise of greater future. A kinder future.

Maybe even a future where sibling would not be pitted against sibling as he had been against his precious one.

And though it felt like a knife twisting in his back, Itachi stumbled forward into the harsh, sterile light of Konoha's hospital. With a final kiss to Sasuke's forehead, he laid the boy (maybe one day he could be a boy again) gently on the ground just as the medics came rushing out. "Goodbye, otouto."

With that, Itachi Uchiha disappeared into the night, bloody wounds still dripping a trail behind him…

* * *

_"We'll hunt him, because he can take it. Because he's not a hero. He's a silent guardian, a watchful protector. A dark knight."_


End file.
